


Blessings

by sahiya



Category: Chalion Saga - Lois McMaster Bujold
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-08-27
Updated: 2010-08-27
Packaged: 2017-10-11 06:44:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,596
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/109585
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sahiya/pseuds/sahiya
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Bastard is the god of all disasters and blessings out of season. Ista isn't sure yet which one this will be.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Blessings

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to Ekaterin and Lovessong for beta reading! Prompt at the end.

The Bastard was a capricious god to serve. Ista had known this from the beginning; He had a wicked, low sense of humor that did not differentiate between stable boy and royina, and His gifts were rarely without strings. But He was the god of everything unwanted and spurned, and for that, Ista loved Him. Forsaken once but never again, she thought, even as she sensed that her time hunting demons for Him might be drawing to a close.

It had been nearly two years now since Ista had regained her second sight. Visping and much of the coast belonged to Chalion-Ibra. Ista and her retinue continued to seek out the Bastard's stray demons, but they went many weeks now without finding one for her to banish back to its Master. She did not think she would ever be released entirely from His service, but she thought she might be granted a respite. She looked forward to it; two years on the road had taken their toll.

She'd not seen Iselle in far too long when she and her retinue arrived in Ibra just in time for the Mother's Day. She would celebrate it for the first time in five years with her own daughter, who had come with Bergon to Ibra so that the elderly Fox might meet his grandchildren. The breeze in the mountains had been brisk, but it softened as they descended through the hills, pausing in a small town to banish a demon that had taken up residence in a child. The girl's father, who had recently lost his wife, wept and kissed Ista's feet. Ista blessed him with as much royal grace as she could summon and moved her retinue on. Her heart lightened as they drew nearer the coast, and the wind began to smell of salt. At the sight of the first wheeling gull, Ista spread her hand over her heart.

Her mistake, she realized later, was in growing complacent.

***

It was a true dream, Ista knew, her first in months. He came to her, as he often did, as dy Cabon, smiling widely with a lascivious edge that had long since ceased to annoy her. He kissed her hand, only a little mocking. "Lovely Ista," He called her, "beautiful Ista. But not _angry_ Ista, I think. Perhaps even - dare I say it - _contented_ Ista."

"Perhaps," she agreed. It was not easy, doing His work, but it left her with far less time to spend railing against her fate. What energy she did have left over, Illvin was more than happy to help her expend. Illvin himself was a balm for her own ravaged soul; she had not felt so at peace since before her fatal, treacherous mistake so many years ago.

The Bastard's smile widened. "You are almost finished with the task I laid at your feet. My demons are almost all come home to me. And now, what shall I do with you?"

"I rather thought I might do nothing for awhile," Ista said, a little wryly, "in the usual way of dowager royinas."

The Bastard laughed. "Oh, but there is nothing usual about you, dear Ista. No, I think you require something a little more _fruitful_ to do with your time."

"Sire," Ista said, suddenly deeply suspicious.

The Bastared stepped forward and spread his hand out over her stomach. "With all My blessings," he said. He kissed her on the forehead and then on the lips. She resisted the urge to swat His celestial hand, but He laughed at her, as though He knew exactly what she was thinking, and vanished.

The dream popped like a bubble in the bath, and Ista opened her eyes. Bastard, you bastard, she thought, and covered her eyes with her hand. She considered waking Illvin, who slept on undisturbed beside her, but decided not to. They would both have little enough sleep in the future, if her suspicions proved correct.

***

Ista did nothing at first. But when she went two months without bleeding, when she found herself sick in the mornings and unaccountably weary in the afternoons, she could no longer ignore her circumstances. She sent Liss to fetch her one of the Mother's physicians - an elderly, discreet woman, to whom many of the ladies in the Fox's court went with their troubles. The woman rather apologetically confirmed Ista's suspicions, and then began to expound upon how necessary it was for Ista to take care of herself, if she wanted herself and the child to come through healthy and whole.

"I have been pregnant before," Ista interrupted, icily. "Twice."

The woman dropped her as deep a bow as her time-stiffened body allowed her. "And with all respect, Royina, you were a girl of twenty at the time. It will be different this time."

"I see," Ista sighed, seeing the sense. "Very well. Carry on."

Eventually, the physician departed. Ista was not alone for more than a few moments when Illvin appeared, shadowed by a worried Liss. "Ista?" he said, frowning. "Are you well? Liss said you sent her for a physician this afternoon."

Ista managed a smile. "Liss, will you please -"

"Yes, of course, m'lady," Liss said, and bowed herself out.

Ista stood, so that she would not have to crane her neck to see Illvin. "I'm with child," she said, and then waited.

It was then that Ista discovered the worst thing about informing people she was pregnant, when she was forty-two and unmarried, a dowager royina of all things: No one believed her at first, and if they did, they didn't know what to say. Sharp-minded Illvin simply sat there, blinking dumbly and putting her horribly in mind of all her old attendants.

"I," Illvin tried at last. "I - are you, that is, are you quite sure?"

"Yes," Ista said simply. "The physician confirmed it this afternoon, but I've suspected for some time."

"I did notice you've often been ill in the mornings," he said, frowning.

"Before then, even," she said with a sigh. "Two months ago I had a true dream that led me to believe this might be coming. The Bastard seems to believe this is some sort of reward for services rendered." She grimaced. It did not feel like a reward. It felt like nausea and fatigue. She would be more than sixty when the child came of age, gods help her. "I know this is not anything you ever asked for. If you want no part in it, I -"

Illvin reached for her arm, to stop her. "Ista, pray do not say you would understand. I know this is unexpected -" Ista snorted "- but it is a blessing. Pray do not do me the disservice of assuming I don't want it."

Ista swallowed. "Oh," she said quietly. "Oh. Thank you."

Illvin smiled and took her in his arms. Ista leaned her head against his chest and closed her eyes. She was grateful for how well he had taken the news; and yet, she could not help but resent the fact that he had a choice. She did not. She could not escape this - this _blessing_, no matter where in the world she went.

***

Iselle was next to be told, of course. Ista was not certain she should be grateful she could do it in person, or wish for the distance a letter would provide. Ista climbed the stairs to her daughter's rooms on the floor above; one look at her face and Iselle dismissed her ladies and invited her mother to sit. Ista stated the news plainly and waited for Iselle to finish blinking at her. She had a little more sympathy for Iselle's consternation than for Illvin's, all things considered. Iselle was not at all responsible for the situation, and Ista imagined that it must be difficult to realize that she would soon have a half sister or brother younger than her own child.

"But," Iselle said at last, "but -" and here she stopped, appearing to think things through. "The Bastard is the god of all blessings out of season," she said at last, carefully.

_Not to mention disasters. I don't know yet which one this will be._ Ista snorted. "He also has an evil sense of humor. I expect He thinks this is some sort of joke. I assure you, I don't find it humorous." She stood and went to stand by the window, arms crossed over her chest. A flock of gulls wheeled overhead; she resisted the urge to make them a rude gesture. "I did not wish for this. I do not wish for it. But it is not for me to decide. The Bastard means for me to have this child now. He has told me so Himself, in His usual capricious way. I cannot very well refuse."

"I . . . see," Iselle said at last. Ista turned and watched her daughter take a deep breath and draw herself up. "Have you given any thought as to what you might do?"

Ista grimaced. "Little as I care to say it, I believe I should return to Valenda. I suppose the news will spread eventually, but I see little reason to make matters more difficult for you and Bergon by having the child in Cardegoss, where we would most certainly be made a spectacle of."

"Well, I see reason enough," Iselle said, frowning. "The physicians in Cardegoss are far better than those in Valenda, and I would have you near me."

Ista smiled. She did not say that Cardegoss was little better for her than Valenda, but Iselle's point about the physicians was well taken. And she was a little flattered - and reassured - that even after everything, Iselle wanted her close. "Cardegoss, then. I will tell Illvin and we will make ready to leave Ibra with your retinue in three days' time."

"Good," Iselle said decisively, nodding. "I shall write Caz and tell him, and have him begin the preparations."

Ista frowned. "Preparations? For what? Surely it won't take more than an hour or two to ready our suite."

Iselle raised an eyebrow. "Preparations for your wedding, I thought."

"Oh," Ista said, "no."

"No?" Iselle replied.

"No," Ista said firmly.

"But it would - Mother, it would be difficult -"

"People will whisper and gossip no matter what," Ista said impatiently. "They may learn to do so where I cannot hear them."

"No, Mother," Iselle said quietly. "I meant that it would be difficult for the child."

Ista opened her mouth and then closed it again. "Oh."

"I don't think it would fool anyone -" Ista snorted; no one who could count to nine, at least "- but I do think it would make things easier later, when the child comes of age."

Ista sighed. "I will think on it. _We_ will think on it. I have little desire to marry again, truly, but there is some sense in what you say." More than some, if she were honest with herself. It was far too late to prevent a scandal, but a wedding might at least foreshorten it.

"Perhaps a letter to Caz would not go amiss," Iselle said, in a delicate way that made Ista grit her teeth. "I value his advice. I think you might, as well."

"Yes," Ista said, smiling as evenly as possible, "I suppose I might."

***

Her letter to Chancellor dy Cazaril was brief - the listing of their respective titles took far more more space than the missive itself - but then, how many words did it take to say, _Help me_? His reply, which reached them on the road to Cardegoss, was longer. It was also written in the Chancellor's own, cramped hand. Ista read it by lamplight in her room in a roadside inn, while Liss brushed her hair and servants bustled in and out, bearing water and clean linens.

_I wish you, first and foremost_, wrote Cazaril, _my sincere congratulations. I realize that this blessing is not without its complications, but I hope that it does bring you joy, and I promise whatever aid I might lend you and Lord Illvin - and, of course Iselle - in the months to come._

_I have given some thought to the question you posed to me. I understand your reluctance in this arena, but I do believe that Iselle is correct - if you wish to raise the child in the royal family, then a wedding now may be beneficial when he or she comes to court at Cardegoss. It will be a badly kept secret, but far from the only such secret in the Zangre. A bastard of the royal family is yet a member of the royal family, and the child could marry well and enjoy many of the privileges and protections afforded by your rank. But we would have to remain ever vigilant for any political maneuvering on the part of Iselle and Bergon's enemies; my imagination is such that I can think of a half dozen ways in which the child might be used against them by someone with enough ambition and few enough scruples. This is merely a note of caution, and something that we may discuss in more detail at some later time._

_However, there may be other options. I have undertaken to discuss the question - discreetly, of course - with a close friend, Learned Umegat of the Bastard's Order. Umegat shares your Calling; although he has been Blind for several years now, he tells me that he has begun to Dream again, and in his Dreams, there is a dark-haired child with light eyes who bears a remarkable resemblance to Iselle in countenance. The Dreams are notably cryptic, with which I am sure you may sympathize, but Umegat urges you to give some thought to dedicating the child to the Bastard's Order. I am quite certain you see the immediate advantages to this._

Ista did. It would remove the child from the ever-present political machinations of the capital while also keeping him or her near enough that Ista and Illvin might discreetly visit. A suitably large purse would ensure that the child would advance in the Order and be well cared, and no one in the order would ever judge the child's parentage. It seemed, from Caz's letter, as though this may have been the Bastard's intention all along, and if it saved Ista from the spectacle of a wedding she had no desire for, then that was a welcome effect.

_Rest assured, I will continue to take thought_, Cazaril concluded. _In the meantime, I wish you a safe journey._

The signature below was unintelligible, but for one distinct C. Ista folded the letter and placed it in her clothes, close to her breast.

"M'lady?" Liss said, appearing in front of her suddenly. "Lord Illvin wishes to know if you would like to eat with him on the veranda, or if he should have a meal brought to his rooms."

"To his rooms, please you," Ista said, standing. It would seem they had a great deal to discuss.

***

That night, Ista dreamed truly once more. She found herself in the Temple in Cardegoss, watching a troop of white-robed children singing in the bright light of midsummer - the Bastard's Day celebration, she realized, recognizing the music.

One of the children in particular drew Ista's eye: dark-haired, light-eyed, serious, and slight, the child stood in the first row. Her eyes caught Ista's and she smiled. A white glow - faint, but certainly present to Ista's practiced inner eye - ringed her head.

"It will not be so easy, dear Ista," the Bastard said in her ear.

Ista smiled. "It never is, Sire."

_Fin._

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: Ista/Illvin, 'gifts out of season', unexpected pregnancy fic


End file.
